A Day in the Life
by Zaydee Kaine
Summary: Dean and Castiel during one of their most angry scenes, and their life thereafter.
1. Chapter 1

The door was opened with a worried hand, Castiel having only come for a moment to check on Dean. He stepped in to the room, and looking at the floor he saw the upturned blue chair. Books strewn over it, pages lay bare or upside down, bent to never be as flat as they had been most likely minutes earlier. What had happened there, Castiel thought to himself. His voice came from a corner by the lockers, deep but flat,

"Cas," he turned in time to just barely see Dean open one of the locker doors where he saw that hateful writing. The very writing he had shown Dean and Sam when they had needed protection from angels. And now Dean was turning it on him, the angel who had protected him, guided him, and pulled him from the pit of Hell. His own scream sounded far away, and he felt first pain, and agony. The excruciating seer of being ripped from that very spot and thrown anywhere else, that pain was almost intolerable, even for an angel.

He was gone, and Dean looked out in to the empty hallway. Darkness and quiet, and that stink of mold and stale water were the only visitors to Dean as he stepped through the door and out of the holding cell. Quietly and with the stealth that his father had taught him, he kept his eyes fixed on the point of entry for Sam and Bobby upstairs as he grabbed his jacket hanging on the wall. It was cold as it touched his skin, but it would soon warm up as it warmed him. He went out the back exit, pushing open one side of the cellar door that led off to the side of the house.

"The end is nigh, the apocalypse is upon us. The Angels talk to me, and they ask me to talk to you. The apocalypse-" he was interrupted under the blaring red sign that told all down trodden and shady characters in this area where they could get their fix for sex, drugs, or drink at any hour.

"Hey," Dean felt no hesitance interrupting this bible thumping jerk as he crossed he street, "I'm Dean Winchester, do you know who I am." He could only hope.

"Dear god," The man was in shock, for he knew exactly who Dean Winchester was. It was THE Dean Winchester who the Angels had whispered about through each scorching day and each frozen night that he spent on aching feet or on an uncomfortable mattress with but a sheet and the bible as his pillow.

"I'll take that as a yes," though that was the reaction Dean had been expecting, it still shocked him, "Listen I need you to pray to your angel buddies and let them know that I'm here."

The man, keeping his shocked eyes on Dean went to his knees to pray, hands clasping together over that most holy of books as he spoke in the same tone that he had been using to yell at the sinners as they walked by, "Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name," he couldn't even get past these opening words to his prayer before Dean heard him cut off by the one voice he didn't want to hear,

"You pray too loud." Both Dean and the churchgoer turned.

A simple touch, that was all it took. A touch to the shoulder and the man collapsed, passed out on the sidewalk under the sign that all sinners recognized. And with this, people would pass him and think he was but a bible thumping drunk; a holy man by day and a sodomite by night.

Castiel grabbed Dean by the scruff and drug him to an alley with the intention of forcing him in to compliance.

"What are you, crazy?" Dean sputtered out as Castiel pushed him back in to the old brick that lay claim to the buildings on either side of that trashed alleyway, reeking of piss and human garbage. Dean found himself thrown against the other wall as Castiel stalked towards him like a lion with its prey. Dean hit the wall hard, managing with mild success to keep the wind in his lungs,

"I rebelled for this?!" Castiel shouted, forcing Dean against the wall with a swift, close knuckled punch to the face. If he was going to get his point across, there was only one way that Dean would get it through his thick skull. And since his skull was so thick, Castiel figured he could take quite the beating.

Dean felt the fist again, grunting a second time before feeling Castiel's hands again at the scruff of his coat. The pressure he physically put on Deans chest felt as though his fists might break right through his rib cage. Castiel's face was inches from his as he spat out in anger,

"So that you could surrender to them?" Water dripped somewhere in the alleyway from a broken rain pipe, and Castiel made sure to avoid it as he threw Dean once more against the other alleyway wall with every intention of roughing him up as Dean tried to lean over to get away, knowing he couldn't hit Castiel back for he'd already tried that once and nearly broke all the knuckles in his hand. But Castiel's fist hammered in to his stomach, preventing him from getting away and as Dean made to fall to his knees another gut punch and a hang to the shoulder stood him up, forcing Dean to face the Angel whom he had hurt and now whom he was damning to earth if he gave up. The gut punches made his lips bloodied as he stood on trembling legs face to face with Castiel, rage written in his features.

"Please" Dean said, asking not only for Castiel to stop but for Castiel to let him do it, to give in to Gabriel and become his vessel for the apocalypse. No please would stop him now, and Castiel spun Dean around and threw him against the other side of the alleyway, unsteady legs loosing their footing as he leaned over to get away from the raging Angel. He thought he may have heard a rib crack in his back as he hit the wall, Castiel once again forcing Dean to stand up as his gut forced him to dribble up blood. He groaned in to Castiels face, brow furrowed and clenching Castiels arms to try to get him to let go as the angel spoke,

"I gave, everything for you, and this is what you give to me?" The words rang in his ears, but perhaps that was from being thrown in to the alley wall, or perhaps from Castiels fist.

Castiel pulled him from the wall, Dean weakening on his feet. Castiel needed this, his anger boiling over and he once more hit Dean with his bare knuckles, taking it easy as far as Angel strength go but to Dean it may have been the worst beating of his life (and it wasn't only physical). Dean stumbled back and tried to remain standing but was given assistance by Castiels foot, his vessel having worn brown Oxfords that were perhaps second hand, though now they had been thoroughly scuffed and worn. Dean braced for the hard tar ground but was met with shock and pain as he fell in to a chain link fence that cut off access to the Check Electric Company. And when Dean hit the fence, he didn't just fall in to it, he felt the ground leave his feet as Castiel kicked him with such force he flew off his feet, the wrapped metal standing up to Castiel's force much in the way Dean's body would not.

He hit the ground hard on his side, cheek cut and insides compressed. He twitched with pain as he smelt the familiar asphalt tinged with rain near his nose, forcing down intestines and spleen, kidney and stomach in order to expand his lungs, catch his breath as Castiel approached his trembling form. Dean felt the ground under a half closed fist and he spit out a mouthful of blood, eyes laying upon Castiel's shoes and pant legs as he came up for what Dean thought would be a final resounding blow that would knock him unconscious, or better. He looked up at Castiel with disgust, but the same look was returned though Dean's face was painted with many more colors than Castiels.

He had trouble forming those first two words, swallowed once before demanding, "Do it. Just do it!" Dean coughed, his body only having enough power to say that and in that command, Castiel felt his rage depleting. He felt the blood on his fingers, Dean Winchesters blood, and he saw the pitiful human, like all pitiful humans, cowering on the ground before him.

Castiel couldn't do it though, and he felt the burden weighing upon him again, the burden that had been lifted when he felt for once, just for once in this near-hell of the past year or so, he felt that he was owed something for all he had done. But he felt that he had again done wrong, and again it was him trying to save the world with two squabbling humans who could barely be called men. He turned, shoulder freezing over and Dean let his head droop, feeling blood pooling in his mouth again.

Two seconds of slanted rain hitting umbrellas and windshields fell before Castiel said, "Okay."

Dean looked up, left eye squinting as a black eye formed and he raised one eyebrow.

"If you're so intent to start the apocalypse, then okay."

This was not the Castiel that Dean knew, giving up wasn't what he did because this was literally a matter of hell on earth. Castiel would crawl in to a hole and hide, somewhere perhaps in the middle east, and let the world burn if Dean wasn't going to do what his moral compass, which had always guided him if not with a few side roads.

Dean pushed himself up, through the pain and agony, leaning on the piss brick wall as he groaned and winced with pain, feeling his innards screaming. Maybe he'd pierced his liver, oh that would be fun he thought to himself in sarcasm. With a trembling grunt for breath that matched each step, he made his way to Castiel. Why did he have to stand so far away, Dean thought to himself.

"Cas," he stood just behind Castiel and put a hand on the back of his shoulder, just above his shoulder blade.

Castiel let out a loud breath through his nostrils, smelling the sweat and pain and of those words, and the blood dripping off Dean's lips. He felt the pressure of Dean's hand against shoulder, the warmth hidden underneath scraped palms embedded with asphalt. He turned and grabbed Dean to keep him from falling since Dean had been leaning on Castiel more than he had meant to in order to stay standing. Dean stumbled the two half steps in to Castiels arms, not able to raise his own so he slid his arms around Castiel's middle, warm body hidden by that middle-class khaki coat. Castiel hugged him back, feeling his trembling head turn as Dean rested his cheek on Castiel's shoulder; the cheek that did not sting. Castiel held Dean there, and in the sideways rain that distorted the city lights and was light enough to cause a nuisance but not enough to be heard on window panes, they stood for a long minute before Dean let out a sputtered groan, his knees collapsing and despite Castiel trying to hold him on his feet, a loud groan of pain that would have been a scream but was bitten back by gritted teeth forced Castiel to let Dean's knees hit hard pavement. And Castiel knelt too, Dean's head falling forward as he trembled with pain, teeth gritted so hard the muscles in his neck were visibly tensed to capacity.

"Dean," Castiel tried to grab his attention, "Dean." he demanded.

Dean lifted his face with one eye almost completely swollen shut, his mental state growing black whether Castiel wanted it to or not. But his other eye betrayed all emotion in Dean's deteriorating state. It betrayed his panic when Castiel didn't show up for weeks, it betrayed the joy he felt when it was just he and Castiel and the humor he got from Castiel's presence in the human world. And it showed something more. Castiel grabbed him once more by the scruff of his coat, bringing his face close and one of Dean's hands fell away from Castiel, he couldn't hold his arms up any longer.

Dean trembled as he sat on knees that were numb, slowly losing feeling in his legs and arms, hands and feet. But he had half a mind left, half a mind through the screaming pain, something telling him he was unsafe in the same way he had felt before in lonely bars on Valentine's Day. And he was right to fear, because Castiel wanted to know. He wanted to know the salt of his skin after a fight. And even in this state, Dean's eyelashes were still perfect as Castiel had always noted, and his broken nose would soon be fixed but would still have that sharp yet small bump right in the middle. He leaned closer.

"Cas." Dean's hand that had been on the side of Castiel's coat hit roughly against Castiel's chest, seeing the look in Dean's eyes that he had already learned to interpret. Don't you dare, that's what Dean was saying with a glance. And suddenly Castiel let it go; they would pick this up on a later date, but most likely never. So Castiel let an inch or two of distance drift between them and saw the look in Dean's eyes relax.

Castiel then moved a hand up and put his index and middle finger against Dean's temple and let it fall down to his jawbone just under his ear as Dean felt the warm hand before he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

"The end is nigh, the apocalypse is upon us. The Angels talk to me, and they ask me to talk to you. The apocalypse-" he was interrupted under the blaring red sign that told all down trodded and shady characters in this area where they could get their fix for sex, drugs, or drink at any hour.

"Hey," Dean felt no hesitance interupting this bible thumping jerk as he crossed he street, "I'm Dean Winchester, do you know who I am." He could only hope.

"Dear god," The man was in shock, for he knew exactly who Dean Winchester was. It was THE Dean Winchester who the Angels had whispered about through each scorching day and each frozen night that he spent on aching feet or on an uncomfortable mattress with but a sheet and the bible as his pillow.

"I'll take that as a yes," though that was the reaction Dean had been expecting, it still shocked him, "Listen I need you to pray to your angel buddies and let them know that I"m here."

The man, keeping his shocked eyes on Dean went to his knees to pray, hands clasping together over that most holy of books as he spoke in the same tone that he had been using to yell at the sinners as they walked by, "Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name," he couldn't even get past these opening words to his prayer before Dean heard him cut off by the one voice he didn't want to hear,

"You pray too loud." Both Dean and the church goer turned.

A simple touch, that was all it took. A touch to the shoulder and the man collapsed, passed out on the sidewalk under the sign that all sinner recognized. And with this, people would pass him and think he was but a bible thumping drunk; a holy man by day and a sodomite by night.

Castiel grabbed Same by the scruff and drug him to an alley with the intention of forcing him in to compliance.

"What are you, crazy?" Dean sputtered out as Castiel pushed him back in to the old brick that lay claim to the buildings on either side of that trashed alleyway, reeking of piss and human garbage. Dean found himself thrown against the other wall as Castiel stalked towards him like a lion with its prey. Dean hit the wall hard, managing with mild success to keep the wind in his lungs,

"I rebelled for this?!" Castiel shouted, forcing Dean against the wall with a swift, close knuckeld punch to the face. If he was going to get his point across, there was only one way that Dean would get it through his thick skull. And since his skull was so thick, Castiel figured he could take quite the beating.

Dean felt the fist again, grunting a second time before feeling Castiel's hands again at the scruff of his coat. The pressure he physically put on Deans chest felt as though his fists might break right through his rib cage. Castiel's face was inches from his as he spat out in anger,

"So that you could surrender to them?" Water dripped somewhere in the alleyway from a broken rainpipe, and Castiel made sure to avoid it as he threw Dean once more against the other alleyway wall with every intention of roughing him up as Dean tried to lean over to get away, knowing he couldn't hit Castiel back for he'd already tried that once and nearly broke all the knuckles in his hand. But Castiel's fist hammered in to his stomach, preventing him from getting away and as Dean made to fall to his knees another gut punch and a hang to the shoulder stood him up, forcing Dean to face the Angel whom he had hurt and now whom he was damning to earth if he gave up. The gut punches made his lips bloodied as he stood on trembling legs face to face with Castiel, rage written in his features.

"Please" Dean said, asking not only for Castiel to stop but for Castiel to let him do it, to give in to Gabriel and become his vessel for the apocalypse. No please would stop him now, and CAstiel spun Dean around and threw him against the other side of the alleyway, unsteady legs loosing their footing as he leaned over to get away from the raging Angel. He thought he may have heard a rib crack in his back as he hit the wall, Castiel once again forcing Dean to stand up as his gut forced him to dribble up blood. He groaned in to Castiels face, brow furrowed and clenching Castiels arms to try to get him to let go as the angel spoke,

"I gave, everything for you, and this is what you give to me?" The words rang in his ears, but perhaps that was from being thrown in to the alley wall, or perhaps from Castiels fist.

Castiel pulled him from the wall, Dean weakening on his feet. Castiel needed this, his anger boiling over and he once more hit Dean with his bare knuckles, taking it easy as far as Angel strength go but to Dean it may have been the worst beating of his life (and it wasn't only physical). Dean stumbled back and tried to remain standing but was given assistance by Castiels foot, his vessel having worn brown Oxfords that were perhaps second hand, though now they had been thoroughly scuffed and worn. Dean braced for the hard tar ground but was met with shock and pain as he fell in to a chain link fence that cut off access to the Check Electric Company. And when Dean hit the fence, he didn't just fall in to it, he felt the ground leave his feet as Castiel kicked him with such force he flew off his feet, the wrapped metal standing up to Castiel's force much in the way Dean's body would not.

He hit the ground hard on his side, cheek cut and insides compressed. He twitched with pain as he smelt the familiar asphalt tinged with rain near his nose, forcing down intestines and spleen, kidney and stomach in order to expand his lungs, catch his breath as Castiel approached his trembling form. Dean felt the ground under a half closed fist and he spit out a mouthful of blood, eyes laying upon Castiel's shoes and pant legs as he came up for what Dean thought would be a final resounding blow that would knock him unconscious, or better. He looked up at Castiel with disgust, but the same look was returned though Dean's face was painted with many more colors than Castiels.

He had trouble forming those first two words, swallowed once before demanding, "Do it. Just do it!" Dean coughed, his body only having enough power to say that and in that command, Castiel felt his rage depleting. He felt the blood on his fingers, Dean Winchesers blood, and he saw the pitiful human, like all pitiful humans, cowering on the ground before him.

Castiel couldn't do it though, and he felt the burden weighing upon him again, the burden that had been lifted when he felt for once, just for once in this near-hell of the past year or so, he felt that he was owed something for all he had done. But he felt that he had again done wrong, and again it was him trying to save the world with two squabbling humans who could barely be called men. He turned, shoulder freezing over and Dean let his head droop, feeling blood pooling in his mouth again.

Two seconds of slanted rain hitting umbrellas and winshields fell before Castiel said, "Okay."

Dean looked up, left eye squinting as a black eye formed and he raised one eyebrow.

"If youre so inent to start the apocalypse, then okay."

This was not the Castiel that Dean knew, giving up wasn't what he did because this was literally a matter of hell on earth. Castiel would crawl in to a hole and hide, somewhere perhaps in the middle east, and let the world burn if Dean wasn't going to do what his moral compass, which had always guided him if not with a few side roads.

Dean pushed himself up, through the pain and agony, leaning on the piss brick wall as he groaned and winced with pain, feeling his innards screaming. Maybe he'd pierced his liver, oh that would be fun he thought to himself in sarcasm. With a trembling grunt for breath that matched each step, he made his way to Castiel. Why did he have to stand so far away, Dean thought to himself.

"Cas," he stood just behind Castiel and put a hand on the back of his shoulder, just above his shoulder blade.

Castiel let out a loud breath through his nostrils, smelling the sweat and pain and of those words, and the blood dripping off Deans lips. He felt the pressure of Deans hand against shoulder, the warmth hidden underneath scraped palms embedded with asphault. He turned and grabbed Dean to keep him from falling since Dean had been leaning on Castiel more than he had meant to in order to stay standing. Dean stumbled the two half steps in to Castiels arms, not able to raise his own so he slid his arms around Castiel's middle, warm body hidden by that middle-class khaki coat. Castiel hugged him back, feeling his trembling head turn as Dean rested his cheek on Castiel's shoulder; the cheek that didn't sting. Castiel held Dean there, and in the sideways rain that distorted the city lights and was light enough to cause a nuisance but not enough to be heard on window panes, they stood for a long minute before Dean let out a sputtered groan, his knees collapsing and despite Castiel trying to hold him on his feet, a loud groan of pain that would have been a scream but was bitten back by gritted teeth forced Castiel to let Dean's knees hit hard pavement. And Castiel knelt too, Dean's head falling forward as he trembled with pain, teeth gritted so hard the muscles in his neck were visibly tensed to capacity.

"Dean," Castiel tried to grab his attention, "Dean." he demanded.

Dean lifted his face with one eye almost completely swollen shut, his mental state growing black whether Castiel wanted it to or not. But his other eye betrayed all emotion in Dean's detereorating state. It betrayed his panic when Castiel didn't show up for weeks, it betrayed the joy he felt when it was just he and Castiel and the humor he got from Castiel's presence in the human world. And it showed something more. Castiel grabbed him once more by the scruff of his coat, bringing his face close and one of Dean's hands fell away from Castiel, he coudln't hold his arms up any longer.

Dean trembled as he sat on knees that were numb, slowly losing feeling in his legs and arms, hands and feet. But he had half a mind left, half a mind through the screaming pain, something telling him he was unsafe in the same way he had felt before in lonely bars on Valentine's day. And he was right to fear, because Castiel wanted to know. He wanted to know the salt of his skin after a fight. And even in this state, Dean's eyelashes were still perfect as Castiel had always noted, and his broken nose would soon be fixed but would still have that sharp yet small bump right in the middle. He leaned closer.

"Cas." Dean's hand that had been on the side of Castiel's coat hit roughly against Castiel's chest, seeing the look in Dean's eyes that he had already leanred to interpret. Don't you dare, that's what Dean was saying with a glance. And suddenly Castiel let it go; they would pick this up on a later date, but most likely never. So Castiel let an inch or two of distance drift between them and saw the look in Dean's eyes relax.

Castiel then moved a hand up and put his index and middle finger against Dean's temple and let it fall down to his jaw bone just under his ear as Dean felt the warm hand before he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

His eyes shot open. Alone, he knew he was supposed to be alone because Sam was off "running errands," though Dean knew he was most likely at a bar. How strange he had been since he had gotten back from that prison with the Devil, but then again he knew Sam had just become more like Dean. There was definitely a second noise in the kitchen and Dean sat up quietly, biting his still healing split lip to make sure this was no a dream. Nope, definitely not a dream he thoguht in the same moment that he reached under his pillow to pull out the holy water dipped silver knife from it's sheath under his pillow. As quietly as possible he slid out from under the one sheet on the bed, walking on near tiptoes to be as quiet as he could on the laminate floor. The kitchen light was on he could see through the crack he had left in the door, and he squinted in to the light to see what waited for him, but he saw nothing. Whatever was in that room was to the left, near the cabinets but away from the refridgerator, most likely on the other side of the sink.

He put a hand on the cold doorknob, opening the door slowly for about two inches before throwing it open, knife in hand at the ready.

Castiel looked up at him almost hopefully, then his eyes turned to worry as he saw Dean standing there in boxers with knife at the read. Dean was just as shocked at seeing Castiel in his kitchen with a bottle of whiskey on the table and two differently sized water glasses beside it.

"What the hell Cas?" he grunted, voice more scratchy than normal from just waking. He lowered the knife.

Castiel shrugged and tried to put on a smile like he'd seen humans do. "I felt obligated to make it up to you." He was hopeful Dean would accept his apology.

"Make what up to me?" He knew exactly what, but was confused because Castiel didn't tend to apologize for things he really actually meant to do.

Castiel was at a loss of words for a moment, but before he could get out the words Dean interupted him, "So you bring me booze?" Dean looked confused and almost disgusted, brow furrowed. Castiel noted that his nose was back in place.

"I thought you liked it." His words were innocent, his tone curious as to why the gift didn't seem sufficient. Was it the wrong bottle, Castiel wondered. It was most likely one of those social subtle things Castiel never understood, one of those things humans didn't verbally say but everyone agreed upon.

Dean perceived the almost heartbroken face of Castiel, and put the knife down on the table. "I usually like my Whiskey out of a plastic bottle," He walked past Castiel to get two brandy tossers and poured out two level servings of the Whiskey, then added a bit more to his glass in silence.

Castiel picked up his glass and sniffed the mystifying liquid, and scrunched his nose at how it reeked. Fermented rye had never smelled good to him, and why humans would ingest it in such copious quantities was beyond him.

"Drink it, it's a top shelf brand." He sipped his and tasted the satisfying smooth texture of 30-year aged scotch whiskey.

Castiel took a sip and after swallowing stick out his tongue, groaning, "You drink this?"

"It'll put hair on your chest" he raised his glass as if to cheers to that and took another sip.

Castiel looked at him puzzled, then looked down at his human form, "Do I want that?" and he looked back up at Dean and Dean couldn't help but get that slightly bewildered smile back.

"Well I dunno, do Angels have hair on their chests?"

It was a rhetorical question, and Dean had once told him that any question he didn't want to answer could be treated as such.

"So you came back to apologize?" Dean pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down.

"Yes."

"Apology accepted," he took another little sip. He knew this bottle would be lucky to survive a week in his possession.

"I am really sorry-"

"It's fine, Cas" Dean said with aggravation. He'd gotten over it after he was healed, his black eye now a yellowish green color though healing fine.

Castiel pulled out a chair then after standing awkwardly for a few seconds, as he always did, and he sat down before he took another sip of Whiskey. He then looked at the silver knife that was in between them and though it wouldn't hurt him, he didn't like it being there. He reached over and began to slide it away on the table as he spoke, "Can you just-"

He stopped as Dean reached across the table and put his hand partially on Castiel's and partially on the knife, "What are you doing?"

"Pushing this away, I don't like it being near me."

"Why?" Dean took it from Castiel, "It won't kill you,"

"No but a knife will hurt the vessel, and I may have to get new clothes if that happens."

"I'm not going to stab you Castiel."

A silence fell between them and Dean refilled his tosser.

"I remember, you know," he said quietly then after he'd spun the cap back on the bottle.

"Remember what?"

Dean looked at Castiel from his lounging position, but then sat forward and slid his hand from the glass to the back of Castiel's as he held his own tosser,

"I remember," he said again as he rubbed his thumb over the back of Castiel's fingers.

Castiel forced himself to keep eye contact with Dean, "I don't know what you're talking about" he said flatly.

"Listen," He reached down and with one hand on the corner of his chair, he took a large scoot forward, closer to Castiel so their knees were almost touching. "I may have been half out of my mind with pain," he rambled off quickly, and then quietly spoke, "But I'm not stupid. And I remember" he whispered the last part as he perceived Castiel leaning closer.

The air in the room was still, scented by a faint mold problem and 30-year aged whiskey. A siren could be heard screaming somewhere outside, or maybe it was in Dean's brain as he leaned forward and Castiel scooted to nearly the edge of his chair.

They were as close now as they had been that night nearly a week ago, and Castiel's voice broke their silent acquiescence, "Don't-"

"Shh," came Deans somewhat forceful whisper, a finger reaching up to Castiel's lips to quiet him. He had been about to tell Dean not to feel obligated, after all Castiel had almost beat him to death but Dean wouldn't let him speak those words.

He looked in to Dean's eyes, Dean's own eyes half lidded as he took in the features of Castiel's chosen vessel, the freckles he had most likely had more of when he was a child, the scruff the man had not shaved in nearly two days before he was taken over by Castiel for good. The uneven hairline and how it grew more profusely on his temples than most people, the perfect forehead.

And Castiel found he could nearly drown in those eyes of Deans, soft eyelashes brushing his as he leaned in to close their gap. Dean's hand went from shushing Castiel's lips to running up his cheek and in to his hair above his ear, and running down to the hair just above the back of his neck. Castiel felt the hot breath of a human, the first time ever and then Deans lips were on his, soft and inviting.

Dean kissed Castiel softly and with all the tenderness his hardened soul knew how, and Castiel kissed him back with every dream he'd ever thought of that involved Dean. It had been years for Dean since he had kissed another man, but it was like riding a bike. The gap between them was unacceptable in Dean's mind, so he reached over and, grasping Castiel's seat between where his legs were and pulled his chair forward so his knees his the seat of Castiel's chair and Castiel's did the same on his. The kiss was lippy until Castiel felt Dean's hot tongue and he reached over, putting a hand on Dean's leg, as if knowing that was the right thing to do.

Upon feeling Dean's bare leg, and having forgotten the man was only in his boxers, he pulled his hand away almost instantly out of sheer human decency and his own embarrassment (though Castiel was often made to feel embarrassed at the hands of Dean). Dean caught his hand however and broke the kiss, moving Castiel's hand back down to the top of his leg. They looked over each other's eyes; Castiels were questioning and Dean's were approving, and Dean was the one who pulled Castiel in to a more passionate kiss. Dean could feel Castiels thumb stroking carefully at the inside of his thigh, and felt the familiar strength of a mans consensual hand on him.

Dean couldn't take it after but a few moments, for he had always been very excitable. He leaned forward on one foot and put his other knee on Castiel's seat between his legs, glad Castiel was sitting back in his chair as per always. He leaned forward and held the kiss, nearly standing as Castiel had to tilt his head up to kiss Dean. Dean put his hands on either side of the back of Castiel's chair, leering over him as Castiel slid his hand from the top of Dean's thigh to the back of it, his other hand sliding up Dean's bare right arm. Castiel's touch was hot to his skin, hotter than a normal human. This was something he had never had the opportunity to notice before. Dean pulled away from the kiss then and whispered, "Come on," and slid from his perched position, sliding fingers in to Castiel's as he led him back through the door whence Dean had come. Once in the bedroom though, Dean turned and forced his lips onto Castiels, and Castiel pulled Deans body close as he felt the passion in those lips.

He couldn't stand the clothes anymore, so Dean slid Castiels' coat off and then Castiel's hands were around Dean again, feeling the scars on his skin from years of being tossed around by monsters and demons alike. Dean spun Castiel around and walked him backwards, Castiel's sheer ignorance being half the fun. When he stopped, his path blocked by the bed, Dean pushed Castiel gently, not wanting to frighten him off since such a motion could be perceived as hostile. Castiel fell to a sitting position, confusion rising only for a moment until he go a glance of Dean's bellybutton before Dean straddled him with one leg on either side of his. Dean grabbed that blue tie and pulled Castiel in to kiss him, letting go a moment later only to work quickly on getting the tie off. He slid it from around Castiel's neck and broke the kiss. He whispered in to the soft light that flooded in from the kitchen table lamp, "Wait here." He got up and padded quietly out of the room, and to the front door. He undid the chain lock and the deadbolt, and opened the front door.

"Dean?" Castiel sat there with his hands on the cold comforter of the hotel bed, hearing the front door open. Dean hastily tied the tie around the doorknob, a universal symbol and shut the door, replacing the locks. He turned off the kitchen light as he walked through, and closed the door to the bedroom just incase. They were now alone, together, with near darkness as their guide. It was something they had both been taught to fear, and yet here it was as their vessel towards ultimate pleasure. The faint light in their room came from a street lamp down the road, orange barely penetrating the room as Dean slid on top of Castiel again. Castiel ran his fingers over Dean's ribs, sensing for anything broken or bruised as he met Dean's lips this time. Castiel felt all ribs to be in place and slid his hands over Deans sides and to his lower back, pressing his body close. They kissed in the darkness, Castiel's hands roaming as he felt Deans hot tongue press against his own, hearts beating faster. Dean made quick work of the buttons on the front of Castiel's shirt, viewing each one as a challenge.

He pulled from the kiss once more and could feel Castiel's hands slide around to his front as the angel looked up at him quizzically. Dean took one of Castiel's hands and seemed to be looking at Castiel's palms. He couldn't help but put that mischievous smile on his face, almost child like as he used both hands to undo the buttons on the sleeves of Castiel's shirt.

"Why are you laughing?"

"I'm not," but Dean was definitely chuckling; he mused to himself that it wasn't as if Castiel could have undone the cuffs of his shirt all on his own.

"Yes you are,"

Dean tilted his head as he went to work on the other cuff of Castiel's shirt, not answering him. He undid the two buttons there before replying, "No I'm not."

Castiel mimicked Dean and put a finger up to his lips, catching Dean only half by surprise. "Tell me," He was trying to do what Dean had done, but it wasn't going to work on him. Instead, Dean spread his lips and gently sucked on Castiel's finger once, leaving the angel in a statement of slight bewilderment. He took a moment to tilt his head to look at his finger that now felt slightly chill as it touched the cold air of the apartment, and in that moment Dean took advantage. Dean leaned in and kissed Castiel's neck once, then twice, and as he did so he heard Castiel quietly whisper,

"Oh." Dean heard the unmistakable tone of pleasure in Castiel's voice as he continued, and slid Castiel's shirt off his torso. He tossed it somewhere else in the room, and felt Castiel's body begin to move against him, pressing himself closer.

His lips were soft, leaving a tingling trail along Castiel's neck before Dean pushed off his shirt, taking Castiel's mouth to his once again with a hand on his cheek. It was the skin on skin contact that aroused Castiel, feeling chest against chest and warm against warm, something he hadn't experienced ever before. And he wanted to feel more of Deans salty skin.

Dean was rocking his hips against Castiel's and one of Castiel's hands rested on Dean's lower back, helping the motions as hot tongues exchanged secrets through every kiss. Castiel reached his other hand up and slid it over Dean's arm until it found that mark, that unmistakable mark he had left on this poor human. He pulled from the kiss slowly as he hand slid over the scar, fingers fitting perfectly onto Dean's shoulder. Dean opened his eyes as Castiel broke the kiss and felt that hand on his shoulder where he had spent hours trying to avoid running his fingers over the raised scar. Castiel looked at where his hand was, at the skin on Dean's shoulder and then met Dean's eyes, sorrow filling his.

"I-"

"Don't" Dean insisted, shaking his head. "Don't," he whispered again, feeling the heat of Castiel's hand even through the scar tissue. Dean put his hands on either side of Castiel's head and kissed him roughly, pushing him back onto the bed, maneuvering one leg between Castiel's. Castiel kissed him back passionately, enjoying the pressure of another body on top of him.

"Kick off your shoes," Dean began to kiss Castiel's neck once more and he kicked off his shoes as best he could. Once that was done, Dean sat up on his knees and began to unbuckle Castiel's belt. Castiel propped himself up on one arm, the other arm traveling over Dean's thigh, thumb poking underneath his boxers and stroking the skin there. Always good with his hands, Dean had Castiel's belt and zipper undone and he slid off the bed, pulling Castiel's pants off and tossing them vigorously anywhere away.

"Are you alright?" Castiel asked, having seen how quickly Dean seemed to toss his pants to the side.

"Oh yes," he cooed as he crawled back on to the bed,

"I'm better than alright," he leaned down and kissed Castiel's stomach, slowly kissing his way up. His skin was soft, and Dean went from all fours down to his elbows as he left a trail of kisses and a couple soft nips, finally meeting Castiel's lips once more.

They let the darkened building around them be the only audience for their growing passion, hands feeling their way around a new form that was not their own. Castiel rolled Dean over so he was on his back, but Dean pushed Castiel over again so he was again on his back, and Castiel let out a small grunt. Dean pulled from the kiss, locking eyes with Castiel for a moment before he began to kiss down his chest, gently squeezing Castiel's nipples and provoking a squirm out of him. Castiel once again propped himself up on one arm, his other hand running through Deans recently trimmed hair. Dean reached his hand down to slide between Castiel's legs, finding he was already semi-hard. Dean slid skilled fingers around Castiel and began that familiar up and down motion, tightening his grip. On feeling Deans hand upon him, he let out a groan of pleasure and heard Dean whisper tenderly in to his pelvis, "Lie back."

He did since he couldn't hold himself propped up with Dean touching him like that. Castiel's breaths became hotter and filled his lungs completely as he grew harder. After giving him a small taste of what was to come, Dean pulled off Castiel's boxers and whispered, "Scoot back." Castiel complied so they could both be on the bed. Before Castiel knew what was happening or had re-situated himself on his back, he felt a hot tongue at the base of his penis, sliding all the way up and he felt Dean's lips slide over the tip. Castiel let out a trembled breath as he lay back, overcome with all the chemicals that his vessel's brain was releasing. Dean moved his hand up and down at the base, his tongue swirling around Castiel's tip. In nearly no time he began to taste the familiar salty release in his mouth, though Castiel wasn't quite there yet. He continued this motion for a few minutes, listening to Castiel's soft moans and his quickening breaths.

Dean slid his lips off Castiels tip, breathing his words against Castiel's skin, "Just give me some warning, hmm?"

Castiel took a second or two to actually process the words, though he didn't understand them, "W-warning?" He could hardly speak, first gripping at the cheap motel comforter.

"Mmhmm," Dean licked around the tip before putting his mouth over it again, hand working faster. It took only another 30 seconds or so before he heard Castiel choke out the one word he wanted to hear in a sigh,

"Dean." He came white and hot, Dean keeping up his pace as he swallowed the saltiness. It was something he hadn't done in years, and yet he invited it. He hadn't forgotten the texture in his mouth or the thickness in his esophagus afterwards. His pace began to slow as he felt Castiel's body tremble under his hand that was resting on Castiel's lower pelvis, and Dean slipped his lips slowly off of Castiel. He smiled to himself and ran his fingers slowly up Castiel's stomach. Dean kissed his pelvis, his hips; up to his stomach and further, letting Castiel catch his breath. Castiel's chest rose and fell rapidly and he slid his hand to meet Dean's, but as he went to put his hand over one of Dean's, Dean laced his fingers with Castiel's instead. And it felt good.


	4. Chapter 4

"Whose tie was that?" asked Sam in the diner across the street from the motel, the waitress refilling Dean's second cup of coffee.

"Hmm?" He didn't look up from the local newspaper spread out in front of him, scanning for anything suspicious nearby.

"The tie on the door last night. I came back to the room and there was a tie on the door, I didn't know you had a blue tie."

"Oh yeah, I dunno, it must have been something I picked up on the road." He said it casually, turning the page of the newspaper.

"Huh," Sam didn't think much of it besides the fact that he knew Dean only owned two ties, and neither of them were light blue like Castiel's. "Well was it good?"

Dean looked up with a raised eyebrow, and then smiled his cocky smile. "Oh yeah. Worth all three bears that I bought her." He looked down at the newspaper and continued without pausing, "Hey listen to this. Some twins went missing a couple nights ago in Crooks County nearby, and two months ago, another pair of twins went missing. Vanished with no traces."

"Sounds like it has potential. Wanna check it out?"

"Yep, but after breakfast."


End file.
